Beati Paoli

by Luigi Natoli

part four, chapter 16

English

As by chance, Gabriella met in the speech of Saint Catherine with Violante, who accompanied by the prince of Butera had gone to visit the aunts. Even Gabriella, approaching Easter, had gone to visit the two old sister-in-laws.

After so long, it was the first time that the stepmother and stepdaughter were next to each other. They greeted themselves ceremoniously, politely, but coldly. Some insignificant words were exchanged, then the Duchess came into the argument pretending to ask for information on the course of the cause of nullity.

"We hope in four or five months to get out," said the prince.

Donna Gabriella seemed to grieve about it.

"Is this really irreconcilable?"

The Prince and Violante made a face as if to say: "Can there be a more foolish question than this?" But Gabriella did not dismay her, she began an upbuilding sermon, made eloquent by the occult motive that pushed her. He praised Emanuele who was rich, handsome, valiant, had everything to be an enviable husband... Didn't they love each other? Love would certainly come later. In the meantime, there were no more taunts; too many had been made of them and not all of them benevolent. And Emanuele, then, didn't show him, but he was in love with Violante and he would commit some madness...

Violante listened to her with an increasing amazement and thinking about the walks of woman Gabriella on the Walls of the Bad, wondered if she had not received any assignments from Emanuele. She was cold. She became suspicious. But the prince of Butera intervened. By now things had begun and it was not appropriate to go back. Worse for Don Emanuele. Instead of spending the night in a lady's house like that, she had to go to him. Go! They were no longer things to discuss without failing to respect that deserved a "quality" lady. She begged Gabriella not to insist on a painful conversation for everyone.

The Duchess showed that she was sorry. Inside, however, he heard his anger roar. In those days she had received anonymous letters that incited her to keep her eyes open, because days of great pain were being prepared for her; some letters made allusions to infidelity, betrayals of the people closest to her.

Violant's rejection, the Prince's words, sounded in her ear like the effect of other suggestions, behind which her suspicious spirit saw the image of Blasco.

He tried to fight back with a joke word, whispered almost in the ear of Violante.

"Wouldn't you be in love with someone?... Tell the truth."

Violently he looked at her with a burning face; the appearance of a woman Gabriella was like a forgery.

"No," she replied dryly, and from that moment she became dark and silent.

They had been understood, but to the longing, irrational, tempestuous gaze of woman Gabriella, Violante opposed a gaze full of disdainful haughtiness.

"Ma'am," he said to her spelling the syllables, "when my marriage is cancelled, I will come and ask these walls for the peace that I never had since my mother died!..."

Donna Gabriella stayed a minute longer, then she went away and went away with her heart in a great storm. When he locked himself in the carriage, lowering the curtains so that no one could see it, he abandoned himself to tears of spite, anger, jealousy and hatred. No one could remove them from their heads that there had to be some understanding between Blasco and Violante.

"But I'll wind her up! - she sobbed - I'll wind her up!..."

Nothing made her more unreasonable, stubborn, fierce, like those impulses of jealousy.

In the evening, she stood before Blasco with her eyes that seemed to be flaming and threatened him:

"Be careful! I have proof that you don't love me, you can't love me... It's useless to deny it. I couldn't believe you... But watch it, I'll tell you again. I stepped on everything to give you everything, everything!... I've lived and lived on you. Well, I will kill you with my own hands!"

She burst into tears after these words and it took all Blasco's mercy and tenderness to calm her down. But she began a life of suspicions, anxieties, fears, crazy impulses, among which she was worn out and lost that playfulness and passion that were her powerful charms.

Another anonymous letter in those days said to her:

"A devoted person, who does not want to be seen, could give you some important news about what is most interested in your love. Do not speak to anyone of this letter; and if you want at least to have the key of what grieves you most, please drive to the Colonna road; a man at the fountain will approach and ask for alms for the holy souls of purgatory. Silence and prudence."

This letter gave her no peace. She was restless until the following afternoon, when she went to the navy. As soon as he came out of the Happy Door, a man dressed in a bag of a fraternity, with a hood on his eyes and a box in his hands, came to the carriage, scorching the box and moaning:

"Holy souls!..."

Donna Gabriella made the act of begging. The fraternity man put up the box and murmured:

"Your most illustrious lordship wants Mr. Don Blasco to be faithful to you? First of all, you should know where a roll was placed, which contains some old scriptures that belonged to an abbot and contained very precious things... It is a small square folded in four, wrapped in a sheet of paper and tied with a string..."

"What kind of cards are they?"

"I couldn't say... but it's scripture... magic. They are terrible adjuries and prayers, that whoever has them is master of the life of others." Donna Gabriella cheated and a thrill of fear ran her in the blood, but did not want to show to believe immediately, fearing that it was some deception. He pretended to have no interest in that matter and answered with haughtiness:

"Lord, I don't know what I care about Mr. Blasco's cards."

And he commanded the chariot to go on, but the confrere begged:

"One moment, very illustrious. Don't kick me out like that. I come for his good, and I don't want any compensation. Thank God, mine's field. I'm sorry to see you go down like that!... Those cards have "tied" other people..."

"Violante!" thought among herself Gabriella woman with a shudder of hatred.

"If your most illustrious lordship," continued the hooded "so he wants revenge and buy back Mr. Don Blasco, get to know where he has them..."

Donna Gabriella asked herself mentally:

"What interest can he have in taking care of me?"

The doubt perhaps leaked from his eyes, because the confrere resumed:

"There is another person who in turn suffers, and whose healing depends on making the "binding" null. Your most illustrious lordship sees so that in his hands lies his peace and that of other people. The day after tomorrow, at this time, I will pass with my box in front of the bastion. Come on. I beseech your lordship not to fail."

He revered her and turned away, scorching the box and shouting with a lamentable voice:

"Holy souls!..."

Donna Gabriella was thoughtful: those cards, that "invoice" that intervention of supernatural things clogged his spirit. He believed and didn't believe: Jealousy exaggerated everything and made her credible the most unfaithful things. But how do you do that? Asking Blasco directly was tantamount to suspecting him and it would be worse. A name flashed to her mind: Coriolano. Wasn't he Blasco's great and only friend? Didn't he know all the secrets?

When he returned home, he hastened to send him to pray that he might favor her. Such a request impressed the knight of Floresta, who did not delay in obeying the invitation of the beautiful lady.

At the first words that, after a difficult and complicated tour of prayers and protests, Gabriella addressed him around a mysterious plico, taken from Blasco to an abbot, Coriolano became serious; but when she told him that those papers contained adjuries and prayers to "invoice" he could not refrain from laughing.

"Who told you that? Excuse me..."

Donna Gabriella hesitated, but to Coriolano's demands she gave in and told him everything.

"Where's that letter?"

She looked for her and gave it to her: The knight of Floresta threw a look at you, smashed his fingers on paper, smelled it and put it in his pocket.

"What are you doing?" asked the Duchess.

"Allow me; I need it to know who wrote it..."

"Can you know that?..."

"Yes. It's my business. Don't worry about it. Now I'm going to tell you that Blasco doesn't own any plug..."

"How can you say that?..."

"I'm sure of it. One parcel he possessed, and now he is no longer in his power..."

"Ah! see?"

"Yes, but that envelope contained nothing but apologies; they were very serious and terrible revelations on the account of a person, now dead, and no longer serve anything..."

"You speak so confidently, that you make me perplexed..."

"It is to him that that envelope belonged to some people of my knowledge, and it had been stolen from them by a despicable being...."

"Or was he not in the power of an abbot?...

"of a despicable being who had disguised himself as an abbot in order to perform that bribery of his. Blasco turned it back to that rascal and gave it back to those who belonged to him... That's all."

Donna Gabriella, amazed, looked at him with her mouth open: What Coriolano said was so precise and circumstantial and he spoke so confidently, that it was not appropriate to question what he said.

"But why," he observed, more for the amazement he felt, than for some doubt that she remained "why would that confrere of the Holy Souls cheat me?"

"I will know this, do not doubt; let me do it."

That evening, around midnight, there were shadows shaving the walls of the SS square. Forty Martyrs of Casalotto, behind Casa Professa, and disappear in the shadow of a small door, which opened mysteriously next to the door of the church.

Donna Gabriella had prayed in vain that evening to Blasco to remain; he had resisted all seductions, on the grounds of the imperious reasons, which suspected the Duchess. She stayed all night, imagining who knows what and running after her fantasies, tormenting herself and returning to the story of the adjuries and spells, despite the assurances of Coriolano. Sneaking away.

From the clock of San Domenico they sounded three hours at night. Donna Gabriella had heard those hours sound one after the other and her spirit had become increasingly blurred under the clouds of her imaginations and her heart by hand had bent under the wave of unreasonable pain. She was persuaded of a truth - such she believed - that did not spring from any new fact but that for her it was no less terrible and real: Blasco had left because he promised some other woman to spend the evening with her. It couldn't have been otherwise. This fantasy took her so much, she penetrated her blood so much, she began to cry; and then, with a sudden resolution, she called her maid and ordered her to prepare her ordinary half mourning carrier and the two steering wheels without livery.

The waitress was amazed. What, then, did the mistress have? Was she insane? Donna Gabriella had to repeat her order to persuade her to obey.

A moment later she left the palace. He ordered her to be taken to Floresta's palace. He wanted to persuade himself that Blasco was at home, wanted material evidence that he was innocent of the betrayal she blamed him for.

The door of the Floresta palace was closed, but the porter had not yet arrived, which opened and let two men out. They passed by the torches of the flyers and from the bottom of the sedan woman Gabriella recognized Coriolano and Blasco. She did not cry out so as not to find out, but as soon as they passed over, she gave orders to go back. He said to one of the two flyers:

"Did you recognize those gentlemen who passed by?"

"Excellency, yes."

"Good. We must follow them, but without giving suspicion."

"Your Excellency will be served."

That modest sedan wasn't suspicious. At night it was not difficult to meet them, because doctors, midwives, confessors did not use other means and there were always people who were born and people who died. Coriolano and Blasco could not therefore think of being followed.

On the other hand, after a little passing the church of S. Orsola, they disappeared in the shadow of the vicolet that came after and the wheels did not know, because they could not, indicate where they had entered. They recognized the alley, but the square was deserted and silent, immersed in the shadow of the night, and the houses around which stood the ancient tower of the Palazzo Marchese, with the beautiful window rabescata, were closed and did not let leak sign of life. Flyers had a good look: They didn't see anyone, they didn't see anything.

Donna Gabriella was sorry. Where could Blasco have gone? Were the pilots sure that he had entered the square? And could they say that he didn't come out from the other side, from the alley that led to the Prophess House?

"Let's go home," he said with a voice altered by spite and pain.

The procession resumed the journey towards the Four Songs; it was already high night and a sense of fear ran through the veins of Gabriella woman. Fear brought her to her senses and showed her the absurdity of that nocturnal expedition, which had come to nothing.

He crossed the Four Songs and descended down Via Toledo. A carriage preceded by four steering wheels, which met her with the trot, gave her new fear. Instinctively he pulled himself into the back, as if he were hiding. At the light of the torches he had recognized the livery of Motta's house, a sign that Emanuele was in the carriage.

"God! if he saw me!" he exclaimed to himself, "I would be lost!..."

But the chariot went on its way, as if it had not even seen the chariot; shortly after the noise of the wheels it was almost suddenly damped: Perhaps the carriage was turned by some sideways, which assured some woman Gabriella. As soon as he got home, he called one of the pilots.

"Go," he said, "to the Floresta palace and spy at what time the knight Albamonte and with whom returns. Don't move without seeing him before he gets back... And most importantly, don't let me see you. Take care. Whatever time you come back, let me wake up."

The steering wheel left.

He leaned into a doorway and waited. He sounded midnight, sounded the touch, sounded two hours, the steering wheel saw two shadows coming out of the darkness, approaching the Palazzo della Floresta; he sharpened his eyes and tried to recognize them; one of them looked exactly like Blasco; on the other hand who could open and enter the Palazzo della Floresta at that time if not the landlord or his guest? He waited a minute to see if the door was open again, and the two who had entered would go out. When he persuaded himself that it was useless to wait, he moved.

A voice arrested him.

He turned round and saw Matteo Lo Vecchio, smiling with a diabolical smile.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"Nothing, my son, I was here, I saw you and since I'm curious I wanted to see what you were doing..."

"And do you think there is nothing to meddle with the facts of others?..."

"According to you, young man: Sometimes it's good to meddle... For example, what were you doing here?"

"What I like..."

"The answer is good, but it's dangerous, because..."

Matteo Lo Vecchio quickly pulled a gun out of his pocket, and pointed it at the chest of the steering wheel, grabbed it by his arm, and continued:

"because if you take a step, if you scream, if you move, I'll kill you like a dog."

The steering wheel was not a coward, but was not even a man of great courage; before the gun his petulance failed; pale, stuttering, he asked:

"But who are you? What do you want?"

"Who I am you don't care to know; what I want is soon said: What are you doing here? And be careful to tell me the truth, because I always have the chance to make you tell nerbats in Carbonera or Vicaria. You choose."

"What was I doing?... But you saw him, you... I was watching..."

"You're a thief, most likely, and you tried a few blows against Mr. Floresta."

"Me? Thief me?... Oh, who do you think you're busy with?..."

"Don't yell so much. What's your name? What art do you do?"

"Oh, come on..."

"Don't you want to answer that? Watch out, I'll hand you over to the patrol, and weeds..."

The steering wheel was trying to break free and To flee, but Matteo Lo Vecchio held him strong, and at every movement raised the gun; that gesture calmed the ill-capitulated by enchantment.

"Don't you recognize me? You don't know who I am? Take a good look at me."

The steering wheel shoved its eyes into his face, and said not without fear:

"Matteo Lo Vecchio!"

"Now you'll talk, I hope..."

"I am the steering wheel of Mrs. Motta's Duchess."

"Ah!"

The birro was troubled: He had actually been too reckless to be recognized, but he could no longer withdraw, he had to make up for it. He quickly assumed why the Duchess had sent her servant to post in Blasco and sensed the advantage that she could draw from it. He said at the wheel:

"Come with me... come on!..."

"Where?"

"Come with me and shut up."

He pushed him forward, without leaving him; at the end of the path of the Bosco they met a roundabout. Matteo Lo Vecchio issued a particular whistle that rushed it.

"Attack this wretch," he said. "It is spreading news against his majesty and says that the imperials have landed in Milazzo and will come to recover Palermo."

The stupefyed steering wheel shouted:

"But that's not true! That's not true!..."

"Shut up, dude... He's an enemy of the king! Take him to Vicaria and don't let him get away."

In those days the fate of the war was worsening for the Spanish weapons; the help of Alemanni penetrated to Milazzo made the siege useless; the news that since January the emperor Charles VI had appointed the Earl of Merey general in chief commander of the German troops in Sicily, and that an expedition was being prepared who said of thirty and who of forty thousand men, that news had spread to the city and made the souls fearful, but more fearful the government, that had given very strict orders against the propagators of news.

This explains the accusation of Matteo Lo Vecchio and the terror of the poor steering wheel, which, tied like a salami, was dragged away.

Matthew stole his hands and said to himself:

"Dear Mrs. Duchess, I'm sorry for your lordship, but the shot is really pretty!..."